There will be a few flashbacks here and there within this chapter, so be sure to be on the lookout for them! (I think I indicated which section was a flashback pretty well, so hopefully there isn't too much confusion!)

WARNING: This chapter is heavy, and can be confusing. I hope everyone can remember to take in the fact that what Evie went through was extremely traumatic, so she will be acting as someone who has just escaped an extremely toxic environment.

If you find yourself at all affected by this chapter, or portions of it, please don't read it, or skip through the part that bothers you.

There is some explanation of the chapter below in the Author's Note, so if you are confused, check out that section. If you have any unanswered questions, you can PM me, and I will try to respond ASAP.

Much love, and please enjoy! xx

+++++

Chapter Thirteen

"Stone cold,

Stone cold,

You see me standing, but I'm dying on the floor,

Stone cold, stone cold,

Maybe if I don't cry, I won't feel anymore"

— Demi Lovato "Stone Cold"

Charles Darwin's claim to fame surrounded his theory on survival—specifically, the survival of the fittest. The "fittest" in the eyes of Darwin, wasn't deemed that way based on physical strength, something most people often associate with that word today.

No.

The fittest were the ones who learned to adapt. They acknowledged their strengths and weaknesses, and then worked to eliminate those weaknesses. They took on every challenge, knowing that if they didn't, they would die.

My greatest weakness in the situation that I had found myself trapped in, was my emotions.

So I eliminated them.

Darwin would have praised me. He would have probably written a book purely off of my ability to survive, and then made himself a fortune. Because at the end of the day—despite the physical, emotional, and mental trauma—I was still breathing.

Somehow, my heart was still beating. My chest rose and fell with every breath of air that filled my lungs.

I had adapted in the ways I needed to in order to survive.

Unfortunately, Darwin seemed to only be concerned with the idea of mere survival itself. He praised the adaptations made; yet, he failed to do a full analysis of whether these adaptations were truly beneficial to the species—and in this case, to the individual.

Was I better off without my emotions?

I was breathing. I was alive. I had survived. But was this truly and honestly the best decision?

The girl before me, standing on shaky legs, seemed to think otherwise.

I analyzed the mirror closely. My hair was absolutely filthy: full of dirt and blood, and matted down by the heavy oil and grease that had collected. My body was in an even worse state. The cuts and bruises that scattered my exposed skin made my stomach twist. The cast for my now, re-broken thumb, hung heavily on my weak wrist.

It seemed as though every breath I took was labored and incredibly painful. My chest would constrict, as though it was physically asking me if this was something I had to do.

If right now, I could just make the pain all go away, and just stop.

Stop breathing.

Stop living.

"Ms. Summers?" The nurse's tentative voice from outside the bathroom door caused me to tear my eyes away from the horrific image in the mirror. "Is everything alright in there?"

A hiss left my lips as I forced myself to limp towards the door and open it, revealing a nervous woman, who seemed to cower away from the mere sight of me.

"I apologize if I disturbed you, but someone suffering from the injuries that you have, especially from the head trauma, should not be up and moving by herself." Her voice shook with every other word, but somehow held a firmness to it, one that I could appreciate.

"Of course." My response surprised her, and I couldn't help but notice the ghost of a smile that crossed her expression. Her relief was evident on her face as she stepped to the side and allowed me to walk past, an action that took an excruciating amount of effort.

I didn't even bat an eye when she extended her hand in my direction, and against my best interest, I ignored her offer to help. With every step I took towards my bed, a shock of pain and discomfort radiated from my foot, through my spine, and into my head. My jaw was clenched and my breaths were labored, echoing throughout the utterly silent room.

But somehow I made it. I felt my shoulders slump forward as I adjusted my bed, my uninjured hand weakly grappling at the controller at the side of the bed.

"Perhaps in the morning we could wash your hair, give you a bit of a bath?" Her voice had a hint of hope, as though she was excited by the idea of me getting better. "I think if you were able to get cleaned up, you'd feel much better."

I numbly stared at my hands, noting from the corner of my eye that the sky was entirely black from the window beside my bed. It must have been around two in the morning, and judging from the lack of noise outside, there were not that many people awake and moving about the hospital.

Just as the nurse was about to leave, I found the strength to ask the question that had been plaguing my mind.

It was one that I had a sickening feeling that I knew the answer to, but there was something within me that urged me to still ask.

"Has," my voice came out as an indecipherable croak, "Has anyone come? Have there been any visitors?"

Her hand had paused above the light switch, and from the way her body tensed, I knew my question had been answered.

"Ms. Summers," she said quietly, turning to face me with a sorrowful expression on her face. "I'm sorry, but no. Your brother has stopped by every day, but—"

"But he hasn't."

I finished her sentence for her, my heart sinking in my chest as I did. I waited for the tremendous ache to follow, to feel the crashing pain and hurt; yet, I felt simply nothing.

It was as though my heart had been dropped into an endless pit, one that forced me to never feel anything at all—apart from the horrific sinking feeling.

"I'm sorry."

I stared out the window, directed my gaze away from her.

I held my breath as the lights eventually shut off, and her footsteps exited the room.

It wasn't until the door shut that a choked breath left my lips.

"I am too." I whispered out, wishing that I could just shut it all off.

But instead, I sank into sadness, and became consumed.

+++++

Flashback

Explosions.

Gunshots.

Complete and utter chaos.

I felt the blood drip from my torn fingernails in a slow and tantalizing manner, causing my stomach to tighten and my throat to close. I was so consumed by the sounds of destruction above, that I had allowed myself to stand utterly still, unable to take further action.

Think Evie, think. You must not just stand here.

My eyes darted around the empty basement, and the voice in the back of my head released a humorless laugh.

There was nothing here. There was nowhere to go. There was nowhere to run. I was a sitting duck.

An object simply awaiting the winner of this battle; an object there for the taking.

I suddenly became hyperaware of absolutely everything. My skin prickled as I heard a series of gunshots echo from my left, and I felt my hands slip the stake into the side of my underwear, where the tattered remains of my shirt would hopefully conceal it.

I began to drag myself back towards the stairs, where the sheet lay in a disgusting heap. When the pain grew too strong, leaving me almost breathless, I decided to stop moving all together.

I had to conserve whatever energy I had left.

If the Kings lost, I would not go down without a fight.

My father always told me to go down swinging, and that was exactly what I was going to do.

The gunshots were becoming louder, signaling the closeness of their proximity. I felt my heart rate quicken as someone cried out, and a resounding thump echoed dangerously close to the basement door.

It had to be locked, right?

Thus began the internal debate: to move or not to move.

The ache that rolled through my bones served as a severe warning of the state that I was currently in. To drag my body up the stairs would be a death sentence, because I was nearly positive that by the time I made it up, I would immediately collapse.

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to take a single step forwards; only to instantly stumble back as the door burst open and a figure thundered down the staircase.

My body had gone into momentary shock, leaving me unable to fully process what was happening around me. While it would take me days to come to terms with this, I had wanted nothing more than the person in front of me to be Sebastian King—the man that I had to turn off every feeling towards.

But in front of me was a slightly dirtied Nick Harmon.

His eyes were wild and he clutched his gun so tightly that I was convinced it could go off at any minute. Before I could even utter a sound, his free hand laced around my arm and I was being carelessly dragged up the stairs. Every step sent pain throughout my body, but my throat had closed and every cry I wanted to scream out became smothered.

My vision blurred—so much so, that I could not decipher the scene that had unfolded around me. I was relying purely on my sense of hearing, and even then, I could not expect any accuracy from it.

A soft cry left my parted lips when a series of gunshots went off dangerously close by, surprising me as well as Nick, who began angrily ranting into the earpiece he had. His words were indecipherable, but judging from his expression and the way he spoke, he was ordering his men to push the Kings one way.

It made sense—to drive them one way while he went another, taking the prized possession along with him.

Bullet holes scattered across the walls, and broken bits of furniture and dry wall lay strewn throughout the hallways and rooms.

It was as though the run of the bulls had taken place.

My numb trance was broken as another figure appeared in my line of vision. Part of me did not know how to react, but deep within, a pitting feeling of disgust, betrayal, and hatred filled me as I recognized the wide eyes of the girl in front of me.

Kate.

My hands twitched by my sides, but Nick did not seem to notice the way I tensed at the sight of her.

"They're everywhere," she cried out, her eyes darting in every direction as gunshots echoed out; although this time, they seemed further away.

"Are you doubting me and my men?" Nick hissed out, his grip tightening around my limp arm. "You think we can't handle the Kings?"

Kate shook her head frantically, but her disheveled appearance and expression gave her away.

"What do you think, Evie? Should we leave her to die or take her with us?" Nick whispered in my ear, taunting Kate.

I had no idea where Nick intended to run to, but whether or not Kate could come was not a question I had an immediate answer to.

"You wouldn't leave me here!" She hissed out, her eyes narrowing. "I've been nothing but loyal to you! I have given up absolutely everything; I have put my life on the line for you, and this? This is how you decide to repay me?"

Despite the pounding in my head, despite the waves of pain rolling throughout my body, I forced myself to focus on Kate, and her seemingly change of character. Her eyes now had a fire within them, and she barely flinched when a loud crash echoed nearby.

In the matter of seconds, she had transformed entirely.

"Surprised?" Nick asked me, his tone sadistic and almost entertained.

I didn't bother responding, as Kate had turned her ruthless gaze to me and a sneer spread across her upturned lips.

"What?" She spat out, "You realize this is your fault, right? This person who I've become is because of you. You dragged me into this hellish mess, and you ruined my fucking life."

"Now, now," Nick interrupted, "Don't go blaming, Ms. Evie."

My heart was pounding in my chest, but my feelings towards this situation were clouded. At that moment, I didn't know left apart from right, or up apart from down. I was in a frozen state of shock.

"You were protecting your family."

My words sounded empty, but I detected the slightest tone of uncertainty in my voice. If I had allowed my proper emotions to show through, I'm sure my statement would have come out as a question, one that would nevertheless be wholly unprepared for the answer it received.

My words hung in the air for mere seconds, and it was as if the gunfire had ceased in that moment—pausing practically for dramatic effect.

"Well?" Nick finally spoke, "Are you going to tell her? Or should I?"

There it was: the aching drop of dread.

It was barely there; yet, after actively shutting out each and every emotion for days, its slight presence was enough to turn my entire world upside down.

"No?" Nick laughed. "We haven't got all day! I suppose I'll just be the bearer of bad news."

Nick adjusted my body so that I was angled so I could see both Nick and Kate.

"I used Kate's family against her as a way to entice her into working for me. One may say that I threatened their livelihood—but that is not important. What is important: little Miss Kate, discovered that I actually had no people watching her family. There was never anyone there, ready to inflict harm to them."

Kate's expression didn't even falter.

She didn't even spare me a glance.

"But the best part of it all? She was not apologetic in the slightest. I gave her an opportunity to leave, seeing as I had already gotten what I needed—" His hand tightened around my waist, and I prayed to a higher power that he wouldn't feel the metal stake at my side. "But she didn't want to leave."

My eyes moved over to her, and only this time did she meet my gaze.

"Interestingly enough, it was Kate who told me we should off Mason." Humor laced Nick's tone, and I could feel his gaze burn my face, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

I didn't show that the drop of dread had developed into a tsunami of anger, hurt, and sickening hatred.

I didn't shut my eyes and force myself to feel nothing, because to do so, would to show him that I had been hurt, that I was hurting.

So I kept my expression blank, and merely stared at the monster in front of me, the monster I had created.

"Don't look at me like that."

Even her voice didn't sound the same anymore.

"You're pathetic," Kate snarled out, "Staring at me with your stupidly empty eyes, acting as if you feel nothing! You are a fucking fraud Evelyn Summers, or wait, is it Evelyn King?"

I nearly flinched at the demonic tone her voice had taken.

"You think I'm crazy, right? Absolutely fucking insane? Well take a grand fucking look then, Evie! I'm you!" She was inching closer, and it seemed with every step she grew dangerously in size. "I'm just like you now, and that fucking terrifies you. You can pretend you feel nothing, you can pretend you're nothing but a robot, but I know that's a fucking lie."

I was too focused on the hysterical girl before me to notice the way Nick's head had turned to the side, as he took in the information flowing through his earpiece.

Then suddenly, he was holding his gun out, pointing it directly at Kate, who had halted her tirade entirely and was now regarding the weapon warily.

"You wouldn't."

"Like I said before, we haven't got all day."

My eyes trained on his finger, and I watched as his arm tensed, signaling that his patience had worn thin.

"No."

Surprising everyone, including myself, I had managed to move in front of Nick in a nearly graceful manner. My hand was extended towards his gun, an action that spoke thousands of words.

There was a split second of utter silence, marked by Nick's stunned expression, before a humorless laugh sounded behind me.

"See? This is exactly why you need me Nick." Kate spoke cruelly. "She's weak. She can't even bear the thought of you shooting me. Even after I betrayed her and her precious gang, even after I stabbed their weakest link and left him on the verge of death, and even after you tastefully exposed me as the true fucking backstabber I am."

Nick's eyes flickered between Kate and me, the confusion and shock still evident on his face.

"She's fucking pathetic. She's weak. And she isn't anything but a life to throw away at the end of all of this. Frankly, if Sebastian saw her now, I doubt he would even be bothered by you putting a bullet in her head."

I never quite understood how adrenaline worked, or the effects it could have on someone.

But adrenaline, mixed with downright rage?

That in itself was a complete conundrum.

Kate's horrified scream split through the air, and it wasn't until I registered the gun in my own hand that I realized I had shot her in the shoulder, causing her to stumble back from the impact.

I had handed the reigns of my sanity over to an unknown beast within.

"A knife in the back is pretty fucking bad," my voice was alarmingly soft. "But something tells me a bullet is a lot worse."

Without another second, I shot the opposite shoulder, causing her to spin back and collapse on her stomach. Before her body could fully touch the ground, she had five bullets in her back.

And suddenly the adrenaline was gone.

The anger had faded.

And I was standing there, frozen in place, staring at the bloodied and bullet-filled body of a girl who I had believed to be my best friend.

The shock was disabling.

I barely reacted as Nick removed the gun from my hand. I barely reacted as he began to drag me towards the staircase. I barely reacted as the shouting and gunshots began to echo within my ears again.

The only thing that managed to break through to me, was the resounding explosion that came from the back of the house—one that nearly shattered my eardrums and caused me to stumble on the stairs as I cowered away.

Nick instantly yanked my shaking body to his side before his eyes darted down the stairs and he took on a grim expression.

"It seems as though your King has decided to come after all."

End of Flashback

+++++

My hair was wet and smelt of sterile cleaner that the hospital had tried to pass off as shampoo and conditioner.

My hands lay limply by my sides as I listened to the hum of the machines within the room. My eyes were closed, and I was distinctly aware of the silence outside of my door.

I had been moved from the ICU after the head of neurology deemed me in a well enough state to reside within a normal recovery room. I thought of the way he hesitated as he spoke to me, as if he was wondering whether or not I was processing his words.

His doubt in my capabilities was entirely justifiable. I couldn't muster up the strength to listen to him. I couldn't work past the horrible emptiness I felt, to care—to care about his words, to care about my recovery, to care about myself.

But that was days ago.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed. The only thing I was sure of was that Sebastian hadn't come once.

Can you blame him?

The short answer was no. The simple answer was no. But short and simple didn't feel right. They felt wrong in almost every way possible.

Why?

Because nothing in my life had ever been short and simple; but more specifically, nothing with Sebastian King had ever been short and simple.

It had always been confusing. It had always been complicated.

"Are you sure you don't want me to towel off your hair?" The nurse was standing carefully by the doorway. "I'm here to help you."

Help.

A sarcastic laugh echoed throughout my head, and I opened my eyes to stare out the window, blatantly ignoring the nurse who was now nervously shifting on her feet.

I stared out the window for seconds, then minutes, and then what felt like hours. Only the darkening of the sky indicated the passing of time, but even that didn't seem to catch my attention.

To be frank, my attention was nowhere to be found. I had become completely and utterly consumed by nothing, and had invested everything in my being into it. I barely heard any of the noises from the hallway. Everything sounded like static on a television or a radio.

But in the back of my mind, there was a part of me that was awfully aware of reality.

All around me, people were moving.

They were going about their daily lives.

But I, I just lay there. I felt everything and nothing at all. I was left completely incapable of deciphering the emotions I was feeling, or better yet, everything I wasn't feeling.

I could sense the passing of time.

I could practically feel the world moving around me.

But I was immobile.

I felt horribly trapped. I felt sickeningly disabled.

I felt as through I was screaming out and no one could hear me. They just regarded me with judgmental stares. They made their remarks behind the backs of their hands. They averted their eyes when my own rose to meet theirs.

A frown grew on my face as I tried to physically shake the thoughts from my head—to remove the unpleasant, nauseating feeling that wracked my body and left me feeling as if I'd been hit by a car.

I heard the door open and the familiar footsteps enter. Frustration leaked into my bloodstream as I imagined her voice echoing throughout the room. Before she could even utter a word out loud, I had turned viciously in the bed and was snapping out the scathing words, "No, for the last time, I don't want you to dry my bloody hair."

I took in her shocked expression, before my eyes moved over to the figure standing a few feet behind her.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared into Danny's concerned and worried eyes. I watched as he quickly sent me a small smile, and attempted to recover from my sudden outburst.

With guarded eyes, I observed the nurse's sympathetic smile to Danny before exiting the room, leaving me alone with my older brother, who was looking at his little sister like she was a complete stranger.

"Hi."

I felt myself physically flinch at the sound of his voice. There was a quaking feeling in my chest, and I felt my pulse quicken as his presence grew in the room.

"The nurse told me that you're doing much better, but she mentioned that you haven't been eating much of anything, and I'm a little worried about that." His light blue eyes traced over my figure, and the distress was evident. "I was able to look over your files, and I'm—" he hesitated, his eyes flickering to the ground, "I'm really happy about the progress you have made."

Always looking at the bright side.

I couldn't bring myself to respond. My heart was pounding in my chest and I wanted so badly to say something, to say anything, but I couldn't.

"I was so scared." Danny's voice cracked and his face distorted as he fought to keep his emotions at bay. "When I saw you in that room, I was absolutely terrified."

He had inched forwards enough that he was now a mere foot from the bed. His expression was hesitant, and his eyes were searching. He was looking at me, taking apart every bit of my appearance, and searching for the little girl who used to ask him to check for monsters under her bed every night.

I wanted him to see that girl.

I wanted to be that girl for him.

I could feel the ache in my chest grow while I watched, and practically felt, his pain—the pain that I caused him.

Danny seemed to realize that I wasn't going to say anything, but he still managed to keep the light smile on his face.

"Mason was released two days ago." He smile widened into a more genuine one. "He threw quite the fit when his doctor insisted that he use a wheelchair for the next few days to ensure that he wouldn't pop any stitches."

A ghost of a smile passed over my lips as I imagined Mason being forced into a wheelchair by Callum, who probably was incredibly entertained by the entire ordeal.

Sebastian probably—

My stomach twisted and I immediately shut my eyes at the thought of him.

"Evie? Evie is something wrong?" Danny's voice was now much closer, and I felt him hesitantly reach out for my hand, causing me to flinch away for the second time.

I forced myself to open my eyes, and physically did not allow myself to pull back my hand from his. I felt my heart sink as he slowly pulled back his hand and took a step away, distancing himself from me.

"Talk to me, please."

His voice was hardly above a whisper, but his desperation echoed in my head. It was a plea that I could not ignore, and I wanted so badly to silence it.

Danny's eyes were watery as he once again placed a smile on his lips, one that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You're going to be okay."

I know.

My heart rate took off as he neared, and I kept my eyes trained on my hand, where his had once been.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He said softly before giving me a quick kiss on my forehead.

"I love you."

I felt the air leave my lungs and the backs of my eyes immediately stung. But I remained silent. I gave a slight nod of my head, refusing to reveal the shock and surprise I felt.

I waited until he had left before I allowed a single tear to roll down my cheek. My breaths came out in short and uneven gasps, and I felt my heart clench at the thought of my brother's pain, but especially at his seemingly newfound dedication to, and his belief in, me.

He hadn't given up on me.

With a shaky hand I pressed the red button twice. I heard the machines hum a lightly louder, and I stared at the as the drops of morphine quickened into my IV bag.

I had to shut it all out.

It had been too much for me.

I just needed it to all go away.

+++++

Flashback

Every breath I took caused my heart to beat faster. My hands were clammy and my stomach twisted with every passing second. I felt as though I was in free fall, and there was not any chance that I would be slowing down soon.

Nick was standing a few feet away, clutching his gun tightly in his hand while I cowered in the corner that he had thrown me in. My back still ached from where it had come into contact with the protruding corner of the wall.

The tension was thick in the room, practically on the verge of suffocating. It seemed that my heart was pounding so loudly, that Nick could surely hear it.

And then I heard it—a parade of footsteps coming up the stairs.

I cocked my head to the side and took in the sounds of the footsteps. Judging from the thunderous noise, I guessed that the majority of Nick's men had been killed, or too badly injured for the Kings to attempt to be subtle or strategic as they entered the top floor.

I could hear my breathing grow heavier as the footsteps drew nearer, and part of me questioned whether or not I should cry out.

Nick must have detected my internal conflict, and in an alarmingly quiet manner, he made his way to me, hauled me to my feet, and pressed his gun to my throat.

My vision grew hazy from the sudden movement, but I immediately stiffened and held my breath when he leaned in threateningly. His eyes pierced my own, and the message was clear: make a sound, get shot.

So I stayed silent.

But looking back on it, I realized I stayed silent not for myself. In the back of my mind, I knew Nick would never shoot me. I knew he would never possibly end the life of the last piece of leverage he had.

But I stayed silent.

And it would take me time to come to terms with it, but I stayed silent because of the pitting feeling of terror that was slowly bubbling in my stomach. The terror that derived from the mere thought of someone I knew getting hurt.

The thought that the bullet Nick threatened to put in my brain, would end up lodged in the heart of someone I cared about, someone who had come for me.

But in the moment, I wasn't analyzing my actions.

I stayed silent because he told me to.

I stayed silent because it was the only option.

I stayed silent as the footsteps spanned out across the first floor, moving past the hidden room.

I stayed silent when I heard a low voice announce that the floor was cleared.

I stayed silent as my heart shattered.

The footsteps retreated and I felt everything inside me come crashing down. I tried to convince myself that they hadn't actually left yet. I tried to remain calm. I tried with everything in my being to remain impassive.

But then Nick smiled.

His smile was horrifically sinister, and it sent shivers down my spine.

"It looks like it's just you and me now," he whispered out, evidently still wary of the fact that someone could still be upstairs.

I shook my head.

"You still think they'll find you?" He was now unbearably close to me. "Oh darling, I give them about twenty more minutes before they give up and leave. They'll leave this place, whoever is left, thinking that I escaped with their precious prize. Sebastian will be utterly destroyed by it, and lord knows your brother may just kill himself seeing as he has lost everything."

My open hand connected with the side of his face at an absolutely shocking speed.

"You just allowed all of your men to be sacrificed." I snarled out, ignoring the murderous glare Nick sent me. "You didn't give a fucking shit about a single one of them, and now you're the last one standing in your pathetic—"

The remaining words were choked out of me. His hand wrapped around my throat, and I felt the air leave my lungs as I weakly kicked out my legs.

"You are in no place to be speaking to me like that." Nick hissed out lowly, his eyes narrowing as a strangled scream left my lips. "I may have kept you alive for this long, but I can assure you, once the Kings leave your life will have absolutely no value to me anymore."

His hand had loosened, but remained against my throat in a threatening manner.

"I can, and probably will, kill you." He said softly, almost tenderly. "Perhaps I'll take a video of it, and send it your lovely little gang."

The thought of Danny seeing me being killed made me see red.

"But don't worry, sweetheart." The back of his hand trailed over the side of my face. "I won't kill you immediately. I'll have my fun first, of course, and then when I've gotten what I wanted; when I've been entertained enough—" He placed two fingers to the side of my head and mimicked a gunshot sound.

"You're a monster."

Distaste and hatred dripped over every word.

He laughed.

"Kate was right. It seems as though you aren't as emotionless as I thought." Amusement danced through his eyes. "What happened to the cold and calculating Evie?"

His only response was silence.

"Shame you filled that poor girl with lead."

Images flashed through my head as I thought of Kate lying facedown on the ground, in a pool of her own blood.

Her malicious glare was burned in my mind, and the thought of it sickened me.

She had turned into a monster.

"I'm just like you now."

Kate's words echoed throughout my head. If she was a monster, why did I believe I was any better?

But did I even believe that?

Where was the cold and calculating Evie? What happened to the girl who knew exactly what she had to do to survive? What had caused me to lower my guard and allow my emotions to overcome me?

The answer was easy.

I was tired.

Absolutely, fucking exhausted.

"You once told me that Evelyn Summers didn't exist. You told me that she was simply a character, one who would and could be whoever she needed to be."

I maintained an indifferent expression, refusing to falter when Nick took a step forwards.

"I'll spare your life for as long as you can be the Evie I want you to be." A smirk played at the corners of his lips, but I didn't react. "I want you to be emotionless. I don't want any fucking tears. I want you to be my little puppet: always obedient, never talking back, and willing to do anything and everything I ask."

His hands were on my body now, and it took extraordinary strength to not recoil from his touch.

"I want you to be mine."

I smiled at that.

I leaned into his touch, smiling even more when a surprised expression crossed his face.

"You want me to be yours?" My voice was husky, and while it was most likely due to the damage my throat had undergone, it seemed to do the trick of capturing his attention. He barely noticed that I had taken his hands and gently guided them to my face.

I watched as he slowly nodded, his eyes entranced with my own.

"You want me to want you. You want me to need you like a person needs air to breathe." I was now on my tippy toes, my mouth hovering above his ear.

"You want me to love you like the way I love Sebastian King."

His body stiffened.

He searched my eyes, before offering a half a nod—unable to properly respond.

A laugh left my lips, and it could have sounded normal, if it had not been empty and sadistic.

"Surely you didn't think that was possible."

I moved at a speed that did not seem remotely possible for someone in the state that I was in. One second Nick was standing in front of me, the next: I was bending over his crumbled form, as he barely remained upright on his knees.

The stake had only gone a third of the way in, but the damage had been done.

"The person I am is never for anyone else." I spoke lowly but steadily, despite the way my heart was crashing in my chest. "I become who I need to be to survive, and that's it. That is something you could never quite understand, but I suppose your last dying thoughts can be a newfound understanding of the girl that you invested far too much time in."

"I can be cold and calculating. I can be cruel, irrational, and hateful. I can act on my emotions and cause irreparable damage. I can ruin lives," my voice sounded foreign to my own ears, "But most importantly, I can end them."

Nick was making a gasping noise now, and I could tell time was running out.

"I can be all of those things, and I can do all of those things. I will do what it takes to survive, and perhaps that makes me horribly selfish."

"But at the end of the day, if there is a mere chance that I can help and protect the ones I care about—I will."

With those final words, ones that I am sure fell on deaf ears; I drove the stake as far as I could into his neck. I felt hot, sticky blood splash out onto my hands and even onto my face. I watched as he collapsed, and blood bubbled out of his mouth.

I felt my body slowly sink to the floor.

Perhaps it was because of all the time I had spent with him. Perhaps it was because of all the torturous pain he had caused me.

But when Nick Harmon took his last breath, I felt something in me break.

I was flooded with icy emptiness.

I crossed my legs and directed my eyes to my bloodied hands, realizing that now another person's blood was mixed with my own.

I felt my hair fall and create a dirtied curtain between Nick and me.

I let it hang there, shielding me from the dead body.

It remained my shield when the hidden door was suddenly broken through and removed. It protected me when Callum's voice pierced through the silence. It protected me when I heard Danny appear at the doorway.

I didn't have to tell anyone to not come in. I didn't have to say a single word about having no one touch me.

My bloodied, broken appearance was enough.

I wasn't sure how long it took them to find me, and I most definitely wasn't sure how long I sat there with Nick's corpse after I had been discovered.

It was as though I was having an out of body experience.

I was not fully there. I was hardly present.

But when I heard his footsteps, when I heard his voice, it was as if reality had been poured over me like ice water.

"I did what I had to do to survive."

I couldn't bear to look at him for much longer. His expression was both terrified and heartbroken. He was covered in dust and dirt, and there was even some blood on him, but I doubted any of it was his own.

"We need to take you to the hospital. You're badly injured." His voice had the slightest shake to it, but it had been difficult to detect.

Even now, he was trying to remain strong.

And I hated him for that.

I don't know what I was expecting. I don't even know what I wanted. But having Sebastian King put up a strong front was most definitely not it.

It's possible that I wanted him to cry. It could have been that I wanted to see him break down before me. Maybe I wanted to see him in pain so that I knew I wasn't alone. But Sebastian King was incapable of showing his vulnerable side, and that angered me.

But I didn't say a word.

Once again, I was silent.

I stayed silent as he hesitantly entered the room, but the upset grew more prominent as his footsteps became more assured. When he reached down to help me up, I instantly recoiled from his touch.

"Let me help you."

You're too late.

The words never left my mouth. Instead, I allowed him to slowly and gently bring me to my feet. I internally braced for the pain to wrack through my body, but it was as though I had become too numb to feel anything.

I wasn't sure how my body continued to function as I was led past the scattered members of the Kings. I felt nothing as I descended the stairs with Sebastian supporting my weight, and the only thing I could hear or even feel was my heartbeat. My eyes caught Danny's as we exited what was left of the once pristine house.

I almost flinched at the concern and worry in his eyes, but found that I didn't have the energy to do so.

"We need to get you to the closest hospital." Sebastian was speaking to me as if we were engaging in a casual conversation. "I'd prefer to have you at the one Mason is at—"

There must have been something on my expression that caused Sebastian to stop talking, because suddenly he was right in front of me, his face inches from mine.

"You're safe now, Evie."

I felt his hand ghost over the side of my face, and that was perhaps what set me off.

Because then there was screaming.

Someone was screaming at the top of their lungs, and it was the most dreadful, gut-wrenching noises I had ever heard.

I jerked myself away from Sebastian the second it had started, in an attempt to escape the sound and identify who it was coming from.

But it wasn't until I collapsed in the grass, and my hands had dug their way into my knotted hair in a vicious manner, that I realized the sound was coming from me.

Images of Kate screaming at me flashed through my mind. I saw her sadistic stare, and then I saw her dead body floating in a pool of blood. I felt Nick Harmon's hands beating me, I felt him kicking me. I felt my bones break; I felt my blood flow freely down my skin. I felt him caress my face, and I heard him whisper in my ear. I felt the pain of the betrayal sink into my heart like a knife. I felt my heart fucking break.

I felt my hands twist the stake into Nick's neck.

I saw him take his last breath.

And then it all went black.

End of Flashback

+++++

I was conscious by the time I arrived in the hospital.

I was conscious, but I was hysterical.

I was screaming for the doctors, for the nurses, for anyone who would listen, to make it stop. I just wanted it to all go away: the pain, the images, and the reminders of what had happened.

Their only response was to sedate me.

By the time I came to, I was in the ICU.

I was still in pain. I couldn't close my eyes for a few seconds without being haunted by the images from that night, and all the nights before it.

I was pulled away from the memories as a new nurse entered the room. She offered a smile before taking down some notes and removing my untouched tray of food.

I waited until she left before I turned my eyes to the window.

I thought of the way Sebastian had walked into the hospital room. I thought of the way he had intimidated the nurse, who had insisted that only immediate family was allowed in.

"How are you feeling?" He was watching me closely, and I felt myself practically withering away under his stare.

To a bystander, he didn't seem bothered by my lack of a response, but I could see the way his eyes darkened when he was met with only silence.

"The doctors here, they want to help you." He spoke slowly, as if he were speaking to a child. "I don't see why you don't understand that."

The noise of the machines was loud, but it wasn't loud enough to block out the tinge of frustration that had begun to leak into Sebastian's tone.

My hand twitched against the remote control in my hand, and my thumb traced over the red button. I wasn't sure why I was forcing myself to think of this moment, since all it did was cause me more pain.

Surely I was in enough pain already.

"They said you're going to need about four more days here, and then with a psych evaluation you'll be able to move down a floor to the regular recovery rooms."

He was merely just repeating the doctor's words.

"A concern that one of your nurses has is that you're not being open about where your pain is." Sebastian didn't even bother to hide the growing annoyance in his tone. I could tell it was getting worse because I refused to make eye contact with him. "You need to work with them, Evie. You need to communicate with them."

I sat up in my bed and placed my head in my knees, despite the protest of pain that arose from my ribcage.

Why was I doing this to myself? Why was I torturing myself like this?

I shut my eyes, and almost instantly, I heard the words that had shattered me.

"Jesus, Evie. It's like you don't even want to get better."

I felt like I remembered everything, but there was so much that had been blocked from my mind.

I remembered tearing the needles from my arms. I remembered screaming out at Sebastian, telling him to leave. I was throwing things, and I was hurting myself.

My actions had caught him off guard, and in an instant he was hovering above me, his hands holding down my wrists to prevent me from doing further damage. His eyes were wide, but it was in that moment that I finally saw it.

I finally truly saw the concern that I had been looking for.

He wasn't looking at me with caution, as if I were an escaped, wild animal. He was looking at me like I was someone he cared about.

But his words were playing on a loop in my head.

He didn't think I was trying.

He didn't realize what I had gone through—what I survived.

And that hurt more than any physical injury I had endured.

So even though I finally saw what I had been looking for, I was still entirely empty. I was hurt more than I had been when I came to the hospital.

"How dare you say that," I spat out, my voice trembling with anger. "How dare you even have the audacity to think you can say that to me." I pulled my arms, ignoring the aching pain that radiated throughout my left wrist. Sebastian's hand was loose around my cast, but he was applying enough pressure to keep me from escaping.

"You have no idea," I whispered. And suddenly my eyes were burning, and I felt the familiar, but seemingly foreign sensation of tears building up.

I watched through watery eyes as Sebastian took in the state I was in, the state he had put me in, and I saw the shocked and pained expression that flashed across his features.

But I could tell, I just could, that there was a glimmer of relief from seeing my unshed tears. He wanted me to cry, because if I cried it meant I had given up my act. He would take it as a small victory, one that meant he was one step closer to breaking down the wall I had built.

He didn't seem to realize that wasn't an option for him.

The wall—this wall in particular—would only come down when I wanted it to. And right now? That was absolutely not a possibility. I needed it to stay up.

I needed it to stay up because it was the only thing protecting me right now.

Everything and everyone else had hurt me, and I wasn't willing to lower the only thing I could muster up any trust for.

I stopped resisting him when the nurses rushed in the room, one of them holding a syringe. I didn't look away from him as she injected it into my IV, which Sebastian took as his cue to finally release me. I willed the tears not to fall, and to my relief, they disappeared after a few simple blinks.

Through half-lidded eyes, I watched Sebastian back up, his dark eyes burning into mine. I could see the flurry of emotions that danced through them, and I could tell he was incredibly conflicted at that moment.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he finally said gruffly, and began to turn to leave.

He was putting up the front.

"No."

He halted in his movements, and turned back to face me.

I fought off the drug long enough to sit up, against the protests of the nurses and my body.

"Don't come back. I don't want to see you here."

I watched as his lips parted and his brow furrowed. I saw the pain in his eyes, but it wasn't enough for me.

I was so angry.

I was so tired.

And there was an ache in my chest, caused by the one and only.

"Just leave me alone."

I could sense the protest in him.

"Please."

The single word that left my lips silenced his unspoken objection. That single word was laced in pain and exhaustion, and I'm sure there was a fleeting moment when both were evident on my face.

But in seconds, my expression was blank and my eyes were empty.

I watched his face crumble for only a fraction of a second, before the echo of the door closing was radiating throughout the room, signaling his departure.

If you were to ask me why I did what I did, why I said what I said, I wouldn't have a comprehensible answer.

But as I reflected on it, I came to the realization that I wanted him to feel the pain that I felt—to feel the hurt with every heartbeat. I wanted him to hurt, because subconsciously I blamed him.

I blamed him for the things I endured.

I blamed him for the torture, both physical and emotional.

I blamed him for it all.

And I wanted him to hurt.

This desire for revenge, however, was fleeting. Seeing him hurt was not nearly as pleasurable as I had wanted, needed it to be, and I was left unsatisfied. I was frustrated, and borderline furious.

I had to turn it all off, my emotions, simply because they didn't make sense.

I suppose I'd rather be empty than be wallowing in emotional turmoil.

My hand ached to press the red button and release the drugs into my system. I was tired and in need of sleep; yet it sis not seem to matter how much sleep I got, I was always exhausted.

It seemed as though the pain medication could only do so much.

I pushed the device out of reach and instead curled to the side as best as I could. The tubes and wires made it difficult, but soon I was in the fetal position. I tried to regulate my erratic breathing, and I tried desperately to drive away the images from my head as I shut my eyes.

I forced myself to take deep breaths, to focus on my slowing heart rate. And soon enough, I felt myself drifting away into sleep.

It felt like only minutes had passed, so short that I could argue it had only been seconds, but instantly I was being tormented with the memories from that night. I heard screaming, I heard explosions, I saw blood splattered across walls and lifeless bodies.

I heard Kate screaming.

I could see, practically even feel, the hatred that burned in her eyes.

She was a monster, but then again, she was just like me.

"Take a grand fucking look, Evie! I'm you!"

Her words affected me both mentally and physically. I could feel myself convulse at the sound of them, and I desperately tried to escape the image of her.

But I slipped, and was lying on the floor. Turning my head to the side, I locked eyes with Kate, who lay in the pool of blood that had caused me to fall.

"You did this to me."

A startled scream left my lips as I shot up in the bed, immediately becoming entangled in the tubes that had wrapped around me. I frantically tried to set myself free, and became more panicked when the sounds of the monitors grew louder.

But suddenly there were hands over mine, and my entire body stilled.

"Sebastian."

+++++

I knew it was him from his touch.

And suddenly I was all too aware of the restraints against my body, and I entered back into panic mode.

"I, I can't," I couldn't manage to speak a full sentence. I attempted to pull at the wires I could reach, but he only held my hands tighter, halting any further movement.

My eyes were trained on the hands that covered my own. Heavy gasps left my lips as I fought to calm down. I watched as his hands carefully unwrapped the tangled wires and tubes from my arms and chest, and I felt as though a weight had been lifted.

Without my restraints, I was able to breathe properly. The heart monitor was no longer blaring, and I could feel my pulse steady as I took in deep breaths. My eyes were shut but I could feel myself beginning to relax.

"Good job, Evie." His voice was soft and soothing, and I felt myself calm down even more at the sound it.

I finally opened my eyes again when my breathing had slowed to a manageable pace.

One of his hands rested on the pillow, only a few inches away from my head. The other was holding my least injured hand, something I became all too aware of at once.

I felt his warmth radiate through my cold skin, and I instinctively wanted to lean into him.

But then I remembered the circumstances, and it seemed as though he did too. His hand unwrapped from mine, and he cleared his throat before taking a few steps back, distancing himself from me.

Just like Danny had done earlier.

I watched as his eyes moved to the floor, then to the window, and finally back to me, where they rested.

"Danny said you looked better today."

I stared back at him.

Sebastian shuffled slightly on his feet before speaking again. "He said you hardly ever speak, and it seems that the only people who you choose to talk to are the nurses."

"I've also found out that you haven't been eating." His tone was firmer now, but I could tell he was growing desperate.

"Did Danny tell you to come then?" My voice was bitter, but it was so quiet that I wasn't sure if Sebastian had even heard it.

But he had and before he could respond, I found myself continuing.

"Danny told you I was well, but he was all worried about me not eating. So you, Sebastian King, finally decided to make an appearance after fucking days," the curse slipped from my lips with such venom that Sebastian's eyes widened, "Because god forbid Evie has an eating disorder."

Sebastian's lips parted.

"I tried to come back." He spoke slowly. "The nurses ad doctors refused to let me come see you while you were in the ICU, and the only reason I was able to see you today was because Danny called in."

I stared blankly at him, processing his words.

He had tried to come see me, but somehow that didn't make up for anything.

"I've been in this wing for three days." My words were almost childish. My outright refusal to accept his excuse was painfully evident.

Sebastian let out a frustrated sigh and leaned down before taking a step closer.

"You told me to not come back."

I cast my eyes to my hands.

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't." He let out a humorless laugh before turning away from me and walking over to the wall in front of my bed.

"I haven't had an appetite." I muttered, barely looking in his direction. "I'm not starving myself, and if that's the only reason you're here, then you can leave."

My body jerked when Sebastian slammed his hands down on the plastic railing at the end of my bed.

"You know that's not why I'm here."

I heard him, but I was too focused on his twitching hands to respond to his statement. I felt myself tense as he advanced towards me stopping only when he reached the edge of the bed.

"Evie." He grounded out.

His hands were still trembling, and against my better judgment, I asked the question that was plaguing my mind and causing my heart to beat faster.

"Are you going to hit me?"

My tone was wary, and my eyes were trained on his hands.

"What?" Sebastian had been caught off guard. "Evie, why on earth would you even ask that?"

"You're hands are shaking. And don't forget, you have before. Even if you weren't going to hit me, you can't deny that you were thinking about it."

My words were cold, strategically designed to cause harm.

"I don't know what to do."

I don't know what to do with you, is what he meant.

"Stop looking at me for answers," I bit out, "I don't have answers for any of this."

Sebastian shook his head and took my hand in his.

"I don't want you to have answers. I want you to be okay."

His words should have been comforting. I should have been able to hear the sincerity in his tone.

But I wasn't okay.

In the eyes of Darwin, I had adapted. I had done what I needed to do to survive, but in doing so, I allowed myself to deteriorate.

I was horribly damaged.

I had kept everything inside of me. I had remained silent throughout the ordeal, and allowed every emotion, every feeling, to build up like water collecting at a dam. The dam was strong, but it wasn't meant to last.

And as long as I was breathing, the dam would not last.

"You want me to be okay?"

My tone was sinister.

"Evelyn," Sebastian said, his eyes narrowing at my tone. It was as if he knew what was happening, but in reality, he hadn't the slightest clue about the extent of the destruction and war that raged within my head.

"You've been pushing me away from the start. Do you know how I felt when I saw you in that room? You weren't you, Evie. You were hardly even there. You were covered in blood, you were unresponsive, and as I led you out of that room I was so scared that one false move would break you."

I already was broken.

I had been broken for a long time.

"It fucking killed me when I saw you like that. It fucking kills me to know that you're still hurting. I just want you to be okay. I want to take away all the pain you have, and I want to help you."

I shook my head at him.

It was getting to be too much. He was pushing me, and he wasn't even realizing what he was doing, the irreparable damage that he was causing.

The dam was beginning to splinter, the water was heaving against it, and there was very little I could do to stop the inevitable flood.

"Evie, I am so worried about you. I want to help but I don't know how. I can see your pain, and I can feel it."

I could feel the lump in my throat growing into an unbearable size. It was choking me. It was suffocating.

The waters were at the very edge and I was drowning.

"Evie please," his voice cracked.

"This is breaking my heart."

The wood splintered and then shattered. There was a split second of utter silence before the wall of water came crashing down.

The dam had broken.

My hands grasped the wires around me, and I instantly and recklessly tore them away from my body. Before Sebastian could even think to restrain me, I had managed to get off of the bed, and was standing a mere foot away from him.

"Don't you fucking dare act like you're the victim right now. How dare you stand in front of me and tell me that your heart is breaking, and that you are the one who is hurt and in pain."

I was absolutely hysterical, but for once I did not feel weak.

I was finally speaking the words that had remained unspoken for far too long, the words that desperately begged to be heard.

"You have no fucking right, Sebastian King!" I was pointing my finger at him, and out of the corner of my eye I could see the blood running down my arm from where the IV had been savagely removed.

He moved to take a step forwards, but I refused to back down. Instead, I met him halfway and caught him off guard by shoving him backwards, with strength that I had not realized I had.

"You don't know what I had to go through. You have no idea what I had to do to survive, but you stand here and you play the victim card, as if I am supposed to fucking care. As if seeing you in pain is supposed to motivate me to get better!"

"That's not it," Sebastian tried. But he was staring at me like I was a wild, uncontrollable animal, one that he wasn't sure how to approach. I heard the flurry of footsteps approach the doorway, but with a simple hand gesture Sebastian was able to keep the nurses and doctors at bay.

"Oh, it isn't?" My laugh was maniacal. "Were you not the one who told me it was like I wasn't even trying to get better?"

My hand landed on his chest and I began to deliver blow after blow. I was well aware that I was doing more damage to myself than him, and Sebastian seemed to be just as aware, but he didn't attempt to restrain me.

"You come here after days of leaving me by myself. You just fucking waltz in and try to talk to me about pain and hurt. You have no fucking right." I was now practically snarling at him, but my blows had ceased. I was dizzy, exhausted, and the pain was beginning to make its presence known.

I watched as Sebastian reached out to steady me, but I flinched away.

"I want to help you." He spoke softly, and I could see in his eyes that he was trying to break through to me.

But what he didn't realize was that he couldn't.

He couldn't break through to me because I wasn't the one who didn't understand.

He couldn't break through to me, because I was trying to break through to him.

I slammed my hands into the side of the bed and managed to shove it a few feet away, where it crashed into monitors and other machines. I watched as one of the doctors took a few steps into the room, but he was too hesitant to approach me. I felt Sebastian reach for me, but I slapped his hands away.

"You aren't fucking listening." I spat out. "You don't fucking understand. You stand here and you think that you're a fucking martyr, trying to save me from all of this. You don't understand that I can't fucking tell you where it hurts, because I don't even know. I'm not in pain, Sebastian. I've become fucking embodied by it. I can't calm down. I am being consumed by this rage and pain and I am screaming but there is no one here to listen to me."

My voice had reached new volumes, and I noticed that the doctor was now inching his way closer to me, a syringe barely concealed in his hand.

"I'm trying." Sebastian offered, but from his tone, even he knew that what he was doing wasn't enough.

I shook my head at him and turned my eyes to the doctor. "Don't you fucking even think about sedating me. I swear to god if you touch me, I will rip your throat out."

He stopped in his tracks, and almost looked ashamed of himself.

My eyes trailed over the room: the bed that was now in a diagonal position, there were monitors that had crashed to the ground, and there were scattered needles and tubes. I took in the horrified expressions of the nurses and security, before my eyes rested on Sebastian's who looked completely, and utterly, defeated.

I had to try another tactic.

"Come on Sebastian, don't act like you aren't furious at me right now for screaming at you. What happened to you not allowing any disrespect? Don't you want to hit me right now? Come on, I know you do."

I was shoving my finger into his chest with every word, physically and verbally pushing him to his limits.

I was staring at him with such hatred and anger. I wanted to see him snap. I wanted him to react.

I wasn't sure where my rage came from. Only yesterday I had felt my heart sink when I realized he hadn't come, and now, I wanted nothing more than to inflict on him the pain that I felt.

I felt Sebastian catch my wrist and he turned me so that I was now the one cornered against the wall.

"Get off of me," I snarled out, my limbs lashing out against him. "I swear to god Sebastian, let go of me right now."

The doctor took this as his opportunity to approach. "Mr. King, she needs to be sedated. She may have worsened her injuries and I believe she is not in the right state of mind."

"Don't fucking talk about me like I'm not standing right here!" My screams echoed throughout the room, and I could hear the hysteria in my voice.

I kicked out at Sebastian, but he only moved closer and used his own body to hold me against the wall and prevent me from writhing away.

"Evie, please," he pleaded. "I need you to calm down."

He didn't understand.

He wasn't listening.

My movements grew more frantic as the doctor approached, and I could feel my vision growing hazy as anxiety and fear wracked my body. I was completely out of control.

The dam had broken.

Sebastian held out his hand to stop the doctor from furthering his advances. He turned back to me and used his free hand to cup my face, and hold me still as I tried to twist out of his grip.

"Evie, I'm begging you. I'm trying to help you but if you don't stop, I am going to have to let the doctor do his job."

"You're not," I said, my voice breaking. "You aren't trying to help me."

I could feel the tears build up and I felt myself grow frustrated as my grasp on my emotions slipped away entirely.

With one last rush of adrenaline, I managed to shove Sebastian away from myself, and send a powerful slap to the side of his face.

I watched as he slowly turned back to face me. I felt the doctor and nurses surround me, but like I had done in the ICU, I refused to take my eyes away from Sebastian. Before the doctor could inject me, I found words falling from my lips.

"Don't tell me you want to help me. Don't talk about how much pain you are in. Don't fucking say that this is breaking your heart, Sebastian King."

A few tears escaped my eyes, but I could feel that my expression had become a cold and indifferent mask.

"If you wanted me to be okay, you wouldn't have let him take me."

The words were laced with resounding conviction.

But I couldn't stop there.

"If you cared about me, you wouldn't have let him hurt me."

And then the needle was plunged into my arm, and I allowed my body to give into the physical pain that I had inflicted. I let myself crumble, but my eyes remained on Sebastian's, and as I fell apart—

I watched him do the same.

+++++

Author's Note

IMPORTANT: SUPER DUPER HUGE THANK YOU TO ALL THOSE WHO HAVE VOTED FOR CATCHING HIS QUEEN AND MILLION DOLLAR MAN FOR The Fiction Awards 2017 !!!! I could not stop smiling when I saw all the votes, and I have all of you to thank for it.

If you have not voted and want to vote, the story is called: The Fiction Awards 2017

You DO NOT have to vote for my works! There are plenty of incredible stories that were nominated, so if you choose to vote, send your love to the ones you would like to see win!

I understand that there was a lot of back and forth in this chapter, so I am sure there will be some confusion. The easiest thing to address, are the flashbacks. I wanted to use the flashbacks to give the full story behind the plan to rescue Evie, but I wanted to show it in her perspective.

As a lot of you love to point out: Evie has lost her shit.

EVIE'S TEETERING SANITY: FOR THE READERS THAT CARE(I completely understand why you wouldn't, as this is just a Wattpad story and further explanations are not necessary) Evie has experienced both physical and emotional trauma. It has had a significantly NEGATIVE impact on her mental health, and the emotions she experiences throughout this chapter are meant to shed light on the internal turmoil she is experiencing.

KATE: This chapter was meant to offer closure into what happened, from Evie's perspective. You get to see what happened with Kate, and while I am sure that it wasn't what the majority wanted, I had to be realistic. I couldn't let her live and have her end up in some fairytale romance with Mason. That is neither realistic nor logical.

· I will offer a further explanation into her character development, but as for now, I want readers to understand that she was deeply damaged by the environment she found herself in, but the person she became was not due to Evie. Kate had inherent qualities that led to her horrible transformation, and those will be later explained.

EVASTIAN: The italics in the second to last section represent Evie's thoughts as she remembers the last time Sebastian was at the hospital. As you may have noticed: one moment she wants him to be there, another she does not. This is meant to represent her conflicted feelings towards Sebastian: whether or not she blames him for what happened to her.

· HOWEVER, the effect that Sebastian has on her, the effect that draws her in, represents her buried feelings towards him. That is what causes the push and pull in how she reacts when he is there and when he is not.

I would like to say a quick thank you to all of you for your support and love. You make this all possible, and every message, every comment, always brings a smile to my face.

I owe everything to all of you, and I hope you can all feel the love I am sending each and every one of you! xx